


Robotic

by metaphoricheart



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mickey Milkovich Takes Care of Ian Gallagher, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart
Summary: Ian hasn't felt like a human in days. Maybe if he could actually sleep, he'd feel better.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 172





	Robotic

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written any fanfiction, especially for this fandom. Sorry it's not a Chronically in Love chapter. Maybe someday. Thanks for reading.

When Mickey woke up at 7, grumpy that he was awake that early at all for no goddamn reason, he knew Ian hadn’t slept. Ian was flat on his back staring at the ceiling, his eyes looking bruised, and just slowly breathing. He rolled over, and said, “hey”. Ian startled. He had completely zoned out. 

“Hey,” he said croakily back, and gave Mickey a small smile. 

Mickey smiled back and began running his hand up and down Ian’s arm while Ian titled his head to watch him. They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Mickey broke it. 

“You didn’t sleep,” he stated. 

Ian sat up and shrugged. Mickey sighed not pushing the issue. “Let’s go find some food.”

Ian wearily followed him downstairs into the kitchen and sat slumped at the table while Mickey was slamming cabinets looking for something decent to eat. Ian would have told him to be quieter, everyone else was still sleeping, if he had the energy. Mickey triumphantly pulled a box of poptarts out and then realized it was completely empty. He threw it in the trash bitterly.

“What is with your family and putting empty fucking boxes back? Throw it out.” 

“Don’t know,” Ian mumbed. He zoned out again when a glass of juice was pushed in front of him. He mechanically drank it.

“That market a few blocks away is usually open this early. Let’s go. I want the fucking poptarts now,” Mickey said. 

Ian looked up incredulously at him. Mickey hated grocery shopping and he wasn’t really one to be that picky about the food he wanted. “What?” Ian said dumbly.

Mickey ignored him and was already throwing his sandals on while flinging Ian’s at him. “You hate grocery shopping.”

“I hate people. It’s early on a Saturday. No one should be there,” Mickey replied. 

Ian raised his eyebrows at him, as his brain slowly caught up to speed. Mickey was trying to get Ian out of the house without making it about him. Plus, Mickey probably did want poptarts. 

“Well, are you coming? Or are you going to make me climb the shelves and then fall on my ass because I can’t reach anything?” 

“Uh...yeah, yeah.” Ian said and stood up. 

It was early but it was already sticky and humid. They walked slowly to the store. Because Ian was walking slowly. They were barely there yet and Ian looked like he was going to fall over. Mickey was starting to kick himself for thinking Ian was up to walking a few blocks on no sleep when all he’d had in hours was some orange juice. But turning back would make Ian irritated because he’d know that they were turning back because he was doing his best impression of a zombie. So Mickey did something he rarely did in public, and wrapped his arm around Ian’s waist to hold him steady as they trudged down the steaming sidewalk.

Ian looked down at him shocked. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but Mickey just raised his eyebrows at him, and then looked away. Ian snapped his mouth shut but he was smiling slightly. It made Mickey feel a bit better.

By the time they’d gotten the poptarts and a few other things, paid for them, and headed home, Mickey was really questioning his judgement. Ian was seriously struggling now, and it had gotten hotter. He steered them to someone’s stoop and pushed Ian down. 

“What…?” Ian asked. 

Mickey wordlessly broke half a poptart, and opened a bottle of water and pushed it in Ian’s hands. 

“Uh, I can eat back at home.”

“You look like you’re going to pass out any second. Just do me a favor and shut the fuck up and do something to raise your blood sugar.”

“Fine,” Ian said under his breath. When he was done, Mickey grabbed his arm and pulled him to finish walking home. It was still a struggle, but at least Ian wasn’t literally swaying as he walked anymore. 

When they got back to the house, Ian immediately collapsed on the couch and curled into a ball. Mickey put the rest of the poptart and his water on the coffee table in front of him, and went to put the groceries away. 

At some point MIckey appeared in front of him. “Meds,” he said.

Ian put his hand out and felt the pills drop into his hand. He swallowed them all in one go. 

“Eat,” Mickey said.

Ian picked up the poptart and ate it without tasting it. He felt like a robot that had to have buttons pressed to do tasks. Push the button to command it to eat. Push for drink. Push for walk down the street. Where was the “be a human” button?  
MIckey plopped down on the couch next to him, ripping his poptarts open. “Finally,” he said his mouth full. He grabbed the TV remote. He was startled when he turned to Ian to ask what he wanted to watch, to see that Ian had tears slowly going down his cheeks.

“Hey,” Mickey said. He placed his hand on Ian’s thigh.

Ian started for the millionth time that morning, “huh?” 

“You’re crying, man.”

“Oh,” Ian said, confused. He touched his face.

“What’s up with you?” Mickey asked.

“Dunno. Tired?” Ian said. He didn’t know what was up with him either.

Mickey watched him for a few minutes, and then said, “you need to take a nap or something”. 

Ian shrugged again, and Mickey turned on the TV just leaving it on the news. The weather was on. 

“And a reminder for those taking certain medications, like psychiatric medications, that heat will have a greater effect on you. These are the signs of heat sickness.” The lady pointed to the box on the screen. 

Mickey glanced nervously at Ian. Ian looked uncomfortable. He crossed his arms. “I’m fine, Mick.” 

“Okay.” Mickey noted to himself to research this shit later and to watch Ian with this heat. Maybe he should go steal someone’s window unit air conditioner. 

MIckey flipped the channels until he landed on cartoons. Ian was slumping further down the couch, leaning more and more on Mickey. Mickey gently pushed on Ian’s shoulder and had him lay down with Ian’s head in his lap. He played with his hair. 

Mickey kept glancing down, hoping Ian had fallen asleep, but he was staring wide-eyed and unblinking at the screen. Carl bounded down the steps, “hey”.

Mickey grunted in response, and rolled his eyes as he heard Carl discover the new box of poptarts. Carl jumped onto the chair next to them. “What the fuck are you watching?”

“I don’t know,” Mickey said and tossed Carl the remote. “Change it if you want.”

Carl flipped through channels and Mickey was about to tell Carl to just pick a fucking channel and stay there, when Ian grunted, “Carl”, warningly.  
Mickey was surprised to hear Ian talk. 

“Alright, alright,” Carl said and settled back on the cartoons. 

“You fucking serious?” Mickey said. 

“I can put back on the mommy drama,” Carl said. “They were kinda hot.”

“Ugh no.” Mickey said. Carl smirked at him and then fully noticed the way Ian was laying on Mickey, looking dead. Carl caught Mickey’s eye and then flicked his eye toward Ian, and then back to Mickey.

“Just being lazybones,” Mickey said casually. 

Ian picked his head up slightly to glance at Carl. “I’m fine, man.”

Carl didn’t comment, just flicked the TV back to the mommy drama. At least Ian seemed a bit more with it now that he’d eaten and was in a cooler space. 

Debbie came down and started bickering with Carl at his TV show choice. Carl ran around the house with the remote with Debbie getting red in the face behind him. The bathroom door slammed. “Carl!” Debbie yelled.

“Oh my god,” Mickey groused at their antics. He looked down at Ian, and then smiled. Ian had fallen asleep. He had his hand wrapped around Mickey’s ankle. Carl and Debbie came back down stairs after a while, and started shouting about something else. Ian started to move a bit, but settled when Mickey ran his fingers through his hair again.

“Will you shut it?” Mickey hissed. 

“Yeah, shut it,” Debbie said to Carl at a normal volume. She stomped up the stairs. They could hear her turn the shower on. Mickey sighed. His leg was falling asleep. But he definitely wasn’t moving.


End file.
